


Heavy Sleeper

by JustAWinchesterGirl



Series: SPN/Reader Oneshots [5]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: F/M, Oral, Smut, brief oneshot that falls in the same universe as Dean... er Deanna, i guess, not really any warnings idk, semi public sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-03-04
Updated: 2016-03-04
Packaged: 2018-05-24 15:08:42
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,076
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6157621
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/JustAWinchesterGirl/pseuds/JustAWinchesterGirl
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Was asked to write the story behind the line in my fic Dean... er, Deanna when Dean says; “Last week we had sex on Baby’s hood while Sam was asleep in the backseat, and he still has no idea.”<br/>Enjoy :)</p>
            </blockquote>





	Heavy Sleeper

It had been a ridiculously long day and you were all beat as you took the long drive back home to the bunker after a particularly grueling hunt. Let’s just say; three poltergeists, one home, and zero bones. You’d had a hell of a time finding each item to salt and burn to banish these pissed off, malevolent spirits- and unfortunately, not everyone in the family living there had survived. Dean was still beating himself up about it, and you were saddened by his tendency to shoulder the blame for everything all the time. Sam had given him the “you can’t save everyone” speech, but those were just words- just something you say to keep yourself going, to keep your head above water. You know there’s nothing you can do, you just have to be there for him and wait for him to come out of his funk.

There’s still hours left to go before you get home, and Sam has passed out, exhausted in the backseat. He’s snoring loudly, though it’s barely audible over the music playing on the radio. How Sam can sleep through it you’ll never know, though you suppose he has quite a bit more practice at it than you. Dean looks tired, too, though his hands have a vice grip on the steering wheel, and his jaw is clenched as he stares furiously at the road ahead of him. You’re tired, but there’s still adrenaline from the hunt coursing through your veins and you’re having a hard time sitting still. You wish Dean would just talk to you, distract you from your boredom and your need to move, give you something to focus on- but he doesn’t.

After a while, you just can’t take it and you slide over in the seat so you’re close to him, resting one hand on his knee and making him pay attention to you, “Dean,” you say softly, “It’s not your fault.”

“I know,” he says, not looking at you, but you don’t believe him.

“Dean-” you start again.

“No, Y/N, it **was** my fault. I…” he swallows, “I only had one shot to get the two of you out of the way. It was her or you, and I… I don’t regret it, Y/N. I don’t even feel guilty. I’d choose you every time. How could I do that? How could I just let her die like that?”

You sigh, knowing you probably could have gotten out of the spirit’s way and saved the both of you if Dean hadn’t tried to be the hero- but you weren’t going to tell him that. Mistakes happen. People die. Sometimes you just have to deal with that. “You did the best you could, baby,” you tell him, “No one blames you for what happened. Without you, the whole family would have been goners.”

He lets out a huff of breath, unconvinced.

“Come on, baby, you gotta let it go. What can I do to make you feel better?” you ask seriously, rubbing his shoulder soothingly.

His angry expression softens as he allows himself to be cared for, realizing just how much you love him and that you would do anything for him always surprised him a little. You kiss his cheek gently and he gives you a small smile and a quiet sigh. His eyes flicker to the rear view mirror momentarily, and his face morphs into a smirk, “You know what we _could_ do…”

You chuckle quietly, shaking your head at his one track mind, but you glance at Sam asleep in the back seat and silently wonder if you could get away with it. “Dean,” you say in a sort of chiding way- but secretly you’re on board with the idea, “Sam is right there.”

“Come on, babe, he is **out**. I thought you wanted to make me feel better?” he puts on a fake pout and raises his eyebrows at you a little, “Why don’t you distract me?”

You smirk, running one hand slowly up his thigh teasingly, “Isn’t there a rule against distracting the driver?”

He laughs a little breathlessly, eyeing the hand on his leg and slowly growing hard under his jeans, “We could pull over if you’re that worried about it.”

Honestly, you’re not _that_ worried about getting into an accident. You love giving Dean road head and he’s usually a good enough driver, even when you’re going at it- but you’re in the mood for something a little more reciprocal than that. Besides, Sam is asleep in the backseat and Dean is by no means _quiet_. You’d definitely wake him and as amusing as that might be, you don’t really want to be interrupted.

You trail hot kisses down his neck and palm his semi through his jeans, earning a quiet moan and his eyes slip closed for half a second, “Yeah, I think you should pull over,” you whisper in his ear.

“Good call,” he rasps, speeding up to quickly reach a roadside truck rest that’s just in the distance.

When the car is in park, you reach over Dean to open his door and crawl over his lap to get out. He squeezes your ass playfully when it crosses in front of him, and you grin, spinning around and grabbing his hand, tugging him out of the car behind you.

“Where are we going, sweetheart?” he asks, smirking as you guide him to the front of the car and press him against the hood so that he’s just slightly seated, leaning against her.

You don’t answer him, just sink to your knees in front of him, gravel digging into your kneecaps, and tug his zipper down. He chuckles a little at your eagerness as you pull him out of his jeans, but his laugh is cut off by a gasp and a quiet groan as you take him into your mouth.

“Fuck, baby,” he sighs, tangling one hand in your hair as he uses the other hand to grip at the car for support.

You smile around him, running the tip of your tongue slowly along the underside of his cock, curling it around the head as it slips past your lips and out before hollowing your cheeks and sucking him back in again.

You **love** giving Dean head. It isn’t just the fact that you enjoy seeing and hearing him in pleasure. It isn’t just that those faces he makes are sinful, or that the noises that involuntarily fall from his lips are enough to make you soak your panties alone. It’s the hot, salty taste of his skin. It’s how thick and heavy his cock feels on your tongue. It’s the stretch of your lips around him, and the ache of your jaw, and his hand tugging slightly at your hair. It’s even the pain in your knees, and at the back of your throat when you take him a little further than you’re able to. It’s the satisfaction that you can do **that** to him. Can make him moan, and whimper, and beg, and buck into your face.

You let him slowly fuck your mouth for a bit before you grab the base of his dick with one hand to stop him, pulling ever slowly off of him, dragging your tongue along as you go. You pull off the head of his cock with one last teasing suck, and lick your lips as you look up at him.

“Shit.. baby, I love your mouth,” he sighs, absolutely _wrecked_.

You get to your feet and fall against him, kissing him deeply, making him taste himself on your tongue. He whimpers a little against your lips and tugs at your belt loops, “Gotta be inside you, baby,” he gasps, “Gotta fuck you.”

You moan and nod, allowing him to hop off the edge of the Impala and flip you so that you’re pressed against her now, the grill digging into the back of your knees. His mouth attacks your neck with hard, passionate kisses, and he sucks a mark there as his hands snake up under your shirt to grope your breasts roughly before sliding back down to your waist and lifting you so that you’re seated on the hood. His fingers make quick work of the button on your denim shorts and you lift your hips so he can slide them off, taking your panties with them.

Leaning over you, he slides one finger up your slit through your wet folds and moans quietly in your ear, “Fuck, baby, sucking my cock makes you so wet.”

You moan and nod at him again and try to tug him closer to you, willing him to just fuck you already. He sinks two fingers inside of you and you gasp, bucking your hips into his hand, trying to get him to fuck you with them.

“You want my cock, baby?” he asks, low and raspy in your ear.

“Fuck yes,” you groan, squirming as he curls his fingers inside of you, fingertips lightly brushing against your g-spot as he puts pressure on your clit with his thumb, “Please, Dean!”

He grins when you beg him, and he pulls his fingers from you, gripping your hips and pulling you closer to the edge of the hood as he slips between your thighs and pushes into you slowly. He moans and his eyes fall shut as you shudder and clench around him, reveling in the feeling of being filled up by him and clawing at his shoulders.

“Fuck, baby,” he breathes.

“Move, Dean,” you command, arching your back and wiggling your hips against his.

“So demanding,” he chuckles, but obeys, pulling slowly out of you and slamming back in. He sets a relatively slow, but hard and steady pace. He lifts your legs, hooking your knees over his shoulders so he can sink into you deeper and you moan, falling back against the hood and clawing at the metal under your fingers.

“Faster,” you moan, “Harder, Dean!”

He moans and obliges you, gripping your thighs for leverage as he slams into you, fucking you at a brutal pace, causing you to slam into the hood repeatedly.

You bite your lip to try not to scream at the pleasure of having his cock brush hard against your g-spot on its way in and out of your body, clenching around him to heighten the pleasure for both of you, and trying to buck up to meet him- chasing your orgasm.

“Fuck, baby. Fuck, Y/N,” he moans a litany of curses intertwined with your name low in your ear, losing the rhythm of his hips as he moans out his climax. With one last hard thrust, he sinks deep inside of you and stills, moaning loudly as he comes and you grip at his arms, feeling yourself tumble over the edge with him, screaming his name.

He pants and kisses your forehead, sliding out of you and helping you to your feet. You pull back on your underwear and shorts, dirt-covered from where they’d been discarded on the ground next to the front tire. You look up at him as he tucks himself back into his jeans and you sigh, leaning your head against his shoulder as he sighs and slings one arm around you and kisses your head again.

“Think we woke Sammy?” he asks quietly, laughing at the thought.

You crawl back into the car and peer over the seat to find Sam, slack-jawed and snoring, in the exact position you’d left him.

You laugh, “Wow. For a hunter, he sure is a heavy sleeper!”

Dean chuckles as he pulls the car back onto the road to head for home.

“Feel better?” you ask after a while.

He shrugs, “Unfair question. Anyone would feel better after having sex than they did _before_ having sex.”

You laugh and nod, “Fair enough. But I mean it, Dean, it wasn’t your fault. It could’ve happened to anyone.”

“You can’t save everyone,” he recites quietly.

You nod, “It’s true. But you saved four other people, Dean. You make a hell of a difference in this world.”

“Yeah,” he breathes, not entirely convinced but not wanting to argue.

You kiss his shoulder gently and lean against him, “You just let me know if there’s anything I else I can do. Or if you ever need me to distract you again,” you murmur.

He chuckles, “We’re just lucky Sam’s such a heavy sleeper.”


End file.
